


No Clear Place

by orphan_account



Category: NSYNC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JC and Justin through the years</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Clear Place

**Author's Note:**

> Features a now hilariously out of character Lance Bass!

When they were in the Mickey Mouse club, JC and Justin would run off to be by themselves sometimes. JC would share a song idea, and Justin would rap. It was a secret and a weird kind of embarrassment for both of them, these aspirations.

"It's like we wet our bed or something," JC had said at one point, and Justin giggled uncontrollably.

"We're not black, JC."

"Only black people wet their beds?"

"They'd let me rap, and let you sing the way you want to if we were."

"Get that racist crap out of your head."

Of course, in time, the Mickey Mouse club let Justin rap, this being a result of JC being fed up about feeling stifled and double dared Justin to rap while the bigwigs were there. However, JC's song ideas remained on the roof of the studio. He would sneak off there at odd times, the notes attempted by a voice that wasn't practiced enough to hit the high notes, and lyrics that were cliché at best, and truly terrible at worst. JC knew that it wasn't really that great, the material he was coming up with, but he also knew that there were times that he got it, and there would be a stanza or a riff that he would pay money to hear again.

Meanwhile, Justin rapped almost daily on MMC.

***

When N'Sync began, JC knew that he could let loose.

Lou (big, fat, nasty Lou was how JC thought of him) had said at one point, "Ah, just sing the way you want to, fer Chrissake! Mariah Carey has happened. Yell all you want!"

So JC began stretching his notes a little more, drawing out syllables longer and longer.

"Dude," Joey said during a rehearsal. "You can only split 'oh' for five times. More than that, it gets annoying."

He found his limits pretty quickly when he tried to dance while singing, and it was a while before his words weren't harshly panted out, his face not turning into a strange shade of reddish purple. However, he knew his voice was improving. His material he wasn't quite sure of though, but Justin had nothing but high praise.

"I think it's great!" he would say enthusiastically. All gangly limbs and bleached blonde hair, he would sneak a peek into JC's notebooks, and JC let him get away with it. The separation after MMC hadn't changed anything, although puberty certainly had. JC found it an odd experience to look up at Justin sometimes, and see the boy he knew shooting up and filling out into someone that resembled a man. Then Justin would burp and laugh uproariously, or pretend that he was Vanilla Ice's illegitimate son and rap "ice, ice baby" and anything mature flew out the window.

These were times JC relished though. Something was beginning, and it had enough of the familiar for him to work his best, and enough of the new to really challenge him. Joey was a lot of fun, and kept quoting The Godfather. Not a bad singer too. Chris was manic, and had a lot of energy that JC couldn't quite fathom, and had to try out anything and everything as long as he deemed it cool. Lance was quiet, peering with those eerie eyes of his, but was generally friendly and nice. He liked these people, and had more fun than not during the whirlwind tour of Europe. Even after Tearin' Up My Heart was like having a sonic drill in his head.

Most especially, he relished it when the lawsuits started flying back and forth.

***

Everyone took it hard, but Justin most of all. Long conversations were the norm, where Justin would be really angry or really miserable. "Why would Big Fat Nasty do this?" went one particular conversation in JC's apartment.

"We made him a shitload of money, Just."

"You said shitload," he said stiltedly. "You never swear."

"Well, I'm fucking mad, so I'll fucking swear, and I'm fucking swearing up a storm now."

Justin's confusion was giving way to glee. "Yeah, fuck him!"

"Stupid motherfuckin' asshole!"

"Nasty son of a bitch!"

"Shit-eating bastard!"

"Fucking asshole!"

"COCK-suckerrr!" JC drew out the last part.

Justin lost it at this point and just laughed, his eyes tearing up. He collapsed on JC's blue leather couch and sighed. "Life sucks, huh?"

JC sat beside him and sighed in echo before responding, "Not all the time. Europe was great. Remember the time in England when Joey-" JC was laughing again at this point, "-when one of the crewmembers asked if he wanted a fag?"

"Yeah." Justin smiled, and sank even deeper in the couch, his hands brushing JC's outstretched ones. "Good times had by all."

***

When the lawsuits were settled, relief came quickly. Relief was first, because the lawsuits had seemed so long and they were all locked into stagnancy. Even JC's creative drive, which usually bloomed under duress, was somehow muted in its urgency and tone. When it was over, relief came and went within a second, then elation. It was a wild, spontaneous burst of sheer happiness, where Lance danced horribly and Chris almost literally bounced off the walls, with JC collapsing into an odd nearby seat while Joey and Justin kept doing variations of the chest bump over and over again, shouting "Who da man? Who da MAN?"

They were in Chris' house when they found out, but with the lawsuits, Chris had held off on the furnishings for some reason. The walls were still bare and white, and all that he had in his living room was a phone, a weird angular modern art chair that was just one long metal rod worked into loops for a base and a seat and a huge bag of Cheetos.

"This calls for alcohol!" Chris shouted. "Even for you, jailbait!"

"Hey!"

Lance had gone off into another room to talk on his cell phone, while Joey had followed Chris in search of anything alcoholic. Justin knelt down beside JC, and put his hand on JC's thigh delicately, as if he were afraid that JC would bite it.

"Aren't you happy?"

"I am," JC replied. "It's finally fucking over."

Justin smiled his beatific smile and impulsively gave JC a quick peck on the mouth before hugging him, with occasional strong and painful whacks on JC's back.

"Hey, you guys!" Lance burst back into the room. "You haven't heard the best part yet."

JC and Justin looked on expectantly while Joey and Chris came in with a six pack of beer.

"From what our lawyers tell me, we're totally free. No strings attached."

***

It's Gonna Be Me was determined by all to be the second single off No Strings Attached (so cheesy, Chris said, but it was appropriate). They were going to be dolls in the video, this being the creative idea of two advertising execs, in a cross-promotional stunt.

"Yeah," Joey said. "More money for the record company and the doll company. For me too, but still."

"Not dolls, action figures!" Lance interjected.

"If it doesn't have a dick, it's not an action figure!"

Chris thought it was cool though, and couldn't wait to get slathered in latex. That was before he found out that latex took even longer to apply than regular make-up, and then it was hell because Chris could never keep still, and certainly wouldn't now, even when JC, fed up beyond belief, just yelled "Sit the fuck still!"

"You swore," Chris noted, rather amazed. "You never swear."

"You won't believe the nasty things that come out of that mouth," Justin said, and winked conspiratorially at JC.

The choreography was tough. Lance especially, who had enough trouble with dancing, was having a really difficult time and couldn't quite get the rhythm of pointing outwards first, then pointing upwards with your right hand while touching your shoe with your left. Joey got tired easily because he had put on a bit of weight over the lawsuit, and still hadn't quite regained his stamina. Chris was his usual self, all boundless energy with little discipline.

Justin took pride in his dancing though, and made sure to master and practice each step carefully. Since he and JC sang lead, the camera would be focusing on them more, so their choreographer was even tougher on them that he was on the others.

Darren choreographed like a drill sergeant. He emphasized precision and discipline, and insisted on taking it from the top every time someone made a big enough mistake. His voice echoed in the studio, which reeked of sweat and feet. He made Justin do his solo steps one more time, with JC waiting for his turn. Both Nsync'ers were clearly exhausted.

"It's times like these I'm glad I'm just a glorified Pip," Lance said dryly, with just a trace of bitterness.

***

"JC, what the hell are you wearing?"

"I thought it was cool," JC said defensively. "Besides, what you're wearing ain't all that great either."

"Hey, a bandanna can go with a suit," Justin replied, equally as defensively. "Not like those genie pajama pants you're wearing."

"And the Britney Spears tie?"

"I promised her I'd wear it."

"True love."

"Not really."

"Cheap sex?"

"Strict virgin."

"Technical virgin?"

"Mother of God."

"Jesus Christ."

"You got it."

JC adjusted his pants while looking at the mirror. "What award show is this again?"

"Dunno. Do you remember what hotel this?"

"Hell, no. They all look the same afterwards. I'm sure it's a Sheraton or a Royal something or other. We make enough money." JC faced Justin, who was sitting on the bed watching him groom himself on the mirror. "How do I look?"

Justin took in the gray v-neck shirt topped with a white denim jacked with purple (he couldn't quite believe the purpleness of the pants) genie-ish, pajama-ish pants, and the black boots and said, "Eh."

"Well, I think I look great."

"When did you become so vain?" Justin asked mockingly.

"Ever since you became Hottie of the Year."

"Shut up."

JC snickered. He crossed the room and sat beside Justin on the bed, then lay on his back, noting the light fixtures on the ceiling. "Times like these," he began quietly, "when I miss MMC."

"The rooftop?" He heard the smile in Justin's question.

"Yeah. Things were simpler. Everyone was given their turn. Miss Keri too, the way she would watch out for us. I hope Felicity gets picked up next season, for her sake."

"Yeah, me too." Justin lay back on the bed as well. "You remember when you were working on Space Cowboy, even back then?"

"Mm-hmm."

"JC?"

"Hmm?"

"Know why I kept sneaking off with you to the roof?"

"You could rap there."

"No." Justin turned to face JC, and with his attempt at deadpan said, "I had such a huge crush on you."

"Fuck you."

Justin didn't stop. "Your ass, so skinny back then, and your nose which was so much bigger back then, cause you hadn't grown into it yet, and your ears that were like teapot handles, oh yeah, you were so hot, I had wet dreams about you." Justin then simulated orgasmic noises. "Oooh-AH! O-ooooo-ooOOH, Jaaaayyy-ceeeee!"

"Fuck you!" He laughed with Justin, but it was only much, much later, after the show when they were in the limo when he realized it. Lance was talking on his cell phone talking business in between Justin and him, and Chris and Joey were drinking champagne in the opposite seat. Justin had fallen asleep and was drooling on the limo window. The thought flickered in his head like a firefly.

He wouldn't have minded if Justin had had a crush on him. Huh.

***

The dissolution of Britney and Justin, and that's what it seemed to be to JC, a dissolution, was long and drawn out for Justin. Britney he liked, but JC knew where his loyalties were, and he was first and foremost Justin's friend.

It was long and drawn out because when Britney and Justin broke up, they maintained appearances for a while. They both still smiled and cuddled in that subtle for the media way, although Britney really didn't like Justin touching her that much anymore. The sex was that awful, or at least that was what Britney had hurled at Justin when JC overheard them having their break-up fight.

JC caught Justin crying once, making that awful noise men make when they cry. Justin had just looked up at him, and JC went over and sat beside him. It was in the bunk beds in the bus, with lights and cars zooming by outside, on their way to yet another stop in a blur of cities. JC put a hand over Justin's shoulder, and spent hours there, with neither speaking a word.

***

Justin tried writing a song and showed it to JC, but issued a warning with it. "It's really angry, and kind of masochistic."

The song was titled Fake Blonde Girl, and after reading the lyrics, JC stated that "It's not masochism, it's misogyny. Kinda obvious too. Besides, it's kind of hypocritical, don't you think?"

"I said girl."

"Could be catchy, with the right melody. You're not really serious though, are you?"

"Nah. At least not yet. I'll wait for a few years, then do an Alanis Morissette."

"Ah, the dance pop-rage transformation that everyone can pull off. You're forgetting Alanis the pop girl was big in Canada. We've sold more copies of both our albums than they have people in Canada, so it'll be hard to pull it off. Everybody knows you, Hottie of the Year."

"Shut up about that already. Why do you keep bringing it up anyway?"

JC looked away. The views outside hotel rooms always calmed him down, although he couldn't tell what city he was in, really. No distinguishable landmarks that he could see, just brightly lit office building after office building with neatly laid out streets. He really didn't mean to look away so dramatically, but he did nevertheless, and sensed Justin putting stuff together.

"Oh my God. You're actually jealous." Justin approached him from behind. JC could see their reflections on the window, Justin's mouth agape with realization.

"Not jealous, at least not really. More like not enough attention."

"You get attention," Justin said quietly. "You write songs, you have a good voice. Better than mine."

"You have a good voice, better body, better looks, Just. Diddled Titney, I mean Britney too. I'm not saying I'm JC the dog-faced boy, but blonde and cute always has a certain appeal. Big nose and ears don't quite have as much drawing power."

"I was kidding about the nose and ears before."

"Yeah, you were, but that doesn't mean it's not true. I know they're big."

Justin's hand reached up and tugged at JC's right ear. "Looks okay to me."

"Well, your opinion in this case doesn't matter that much. It's not like you'll blow into my ears anytime soon, you know."

JC stared directly at the window. Justin rested his chin on JC's shoulder, then turned his head and sighed. The breath gently went in JC's ear, sending a tingle down his spine. He leaned his head back against Justin, who then put his arms around JC's waist. It was a snug, comfortable fit, like being wrapped in a blanket a few minutes out of the dryer.

Justin's hand crept up inside JC's shirt a few minutes after that, but then he was about to turn around anyway to kiss that mouth, run his fingers through that blonde curly hair, and hold Justin's cheeks with both his hands while he kissed him passionately.

They broke apart after a few minutes, both panting harshly.

"That's the third time we've kissed." JC's voice was thick and rusty.

"I know." A pause. "Why does it keep getting better?"

"That I don't know."

***

JC kept track of their meetings because he knew it wouldn't last. He wanted to firebrand each moment, just so he could relive it in memory later on. It was an internal counter, since each seemed destined to blow up in their faces. He envisioned nightmarish scenarios of hidden cameras or Lance walking in on them and looking in disgust. Somehow, it even dwarfed the impending release of their third album, which no one had titled yet.

They always tried to be discreet, but then that counted for so little. Encounter # 32 was in the recording studio during a break, when they were stupid with lust and decided to record Justin during sex. They played the tape afterwards, and were amused and mildly appalled.

"I sound like that?" Justin exclaimed. "I sound like a sheep!"

"And I didn't know it was so noisy," JC added. "Those slick, wet noises. I didn't know they were so loud."

Meeting # 10 was in the bus on the last days of tour, with JC face down on the bunk bed muffling his moans while Justin slid his cock in between JC's clamped upper thighs. Justin had grabbed JC's underwear and put it in his mouth, his own measure for trying to prevent anything loud from coming out that would arouse his band mates' curiosity. Justin, after coming explosively, spat out the underwear and collapsed on JC, spent.

Tryst # 21 was their first disastrous attempt at penetration, with Justin heaving JC off of him.

"I don't think I'm ready for that." Justin did little hops and stretches, trying to soothe the soreness.

"Tell you the truth, neither was I. We should do more research."

"That lube is cold."

"And I'm not too sure about the shit on the dick thing either."

JC was waiting for the time when he didn't have to count, when he could relax and lay back with the knowledge that he would have years. Nothing was permanent, he knew that much. Divorce rate was high, media scrutiny too tough, Britney wore an almost transparent dress to an awards show that made Justin's eyes pop out and pants pop up. A lot of factors when he thought about it. He really didn't like their odds. They hadn't even come out yet. They had only come out to Lance, and his reaction wasn't great, to say the least.

"I work with you," Lance said, with those odd eyes of his flashing with rage, "I'll continue to work with you, and even be a professional. We're no longer friends though. What you're doing is sick."

He wanted years though. To be able to say, "I had three years with Justin, with more good than bad, and I would do it all over again if given half a chance" was a heavenly idea. More than worth Lance's anger.

***

The band split up exactly three months after JC and Justin came out to Lance. The implosion was imminent, really. Poor Joey and Chris never even saw it coming though.

"What the fuck is going on?" Chris demanded. He was ugly when mad, his anger contorting his face into bizarre clown-like expressions.

"Your pals over there are fucking each other, that's what," Lance spat out. "I'm sick of it, and I want no part of it."

Joey stared at them, incoherent with shock. "You two are-" he swallowed loudly "-doing it? Like doing it, doing it?"

"Yeah," Justin replied defiantly.

"Jesus Christ," Chris said. "Jesus H. Christ."

"We definitely need a break," Joey said, having regained some composure. "But Lance, we have obligations, an album to promote. We can't just leave."

"I sure as hell can. I'm using the morals clause in our contracts. You think parents wouldn't want to know this?"

"For fuck's sake, Lance! Don't be so petty." JC was livid, not expecting this of Lance, this low, intolerant behavior.

Lance sighed, then stared directly at Justin and JC. "You don't think this is easy on me, do you? Because it's not. But it comes down to one thing. I think what you're doing is wrong. What have my parents taught me? Don't stand for wrong." Lance then looked at Joey and Chris. "Don't ask me to do nothing, because I can't do it."

That was that, really. JC hugged Justin fiercely, hoping for a ray of light, for some sort of salvation, but knew that there was none coming. Justin hugged back just as desperately.

***

It was hot on the rooftops of the Disney Studios.

"Fuck it's hot!"

"You never used to swear that much."

"You never used to suck dick either, so it's not all bad."

They had brought a blanket along. The roof was gritty and uncomfortable even way back then, but they came prepared.

JC spread the blanket out and Justin immediately scrambled on top of it, sitting in an Indian fashion. JC followed suit, and both spent a minute surveying their surroundings.

"This place is ugly," Justin commented.

"I know. Good memories though."

"Space Cowboy. Yippie-ki-yay, yippie-ki-yay."

"Keri Russell taking us out on drives around the lot."

"Us sneaking out when Christina and Britney would fight."

JC laughed. "How many years has it been since then?"

"Too many." Justin pensively stared out into the horizon. "It's cool though, how some things stay the same, no matter how many years go by."

"This studio, for one."

"You, for one. This studio is somewhere near the middle of the list, if there was one."

"You're getting mushy on me, Timberlake."

"Yeah, well, there've been too many changes recently. I want some things to stay the same. I want years of this-" Justin paused to wave his left arm trying to encompass the 'this' that was their relationship while grabbing JC with his right "-years of it, you hear me?"

"I heard you." JC said, with a wide smile. He stopped counting. He'd already lost count anyway.

THE END


End file.
